Detour in Time
by Wanamaker
Summary: Harry has a detour in time. Mild slash of the HPTR kind. [oneshot]::Complete::


**Summary:** Harry has a detour back in time. My take on the usual Harry-traveling-back-in-time-to-meet-Tom scenario. Hope you find it unique in its own way. (One-Shot)  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warning:** mild slash  
**Pairing:** Harry/Tom

**Detour in Time  
**_Beta'd by the lovely borneshadowchild, many thanks' to her._

Albus appeared in his door, just as I stood waiting – he always had the knack to show up at exactly the right time. The same old Albus. Except this time his blue eyes were not twinkling, and his beard was not snow white but a brilliant red. He merely raised one eyebrow, his face blank.

I was sure he knew I wasn't one of the students, not at his time anyway. And I could not blame him for his wariness; one simply does not trust someone who appears out of blue in a time when Dark Wizards run rampage. Dark wizards…funny how they always pop up from time to time, rising from the ashes of their processors. I could feel his eyes on me, taking in little details and lingering curiously over my war-ropes. I wasn't wearing a glamour charm: that much honesty I must show him if I were to win his trust. Although the non-magical makeup that covered my scar was a whole different matter – that even him could not afford to see. I opened my mouth to tell my tale, but suddenly realized the absurdity of it all. So I laughed, laughed as I had not done in a very long time, laughed until tears streamed down my face.

And all the while he waited, and watched. Until finally I was done he took a step back and extended a welcoming arm, "Come in, and we can talk." Although his neutral expression and wary blue eyes clearly told me that he was ready to blast me into the next week if I were to try anything funny.

I stepped into the room – and almost gasped. It was a little hard for me to imagine Albus living here; true the silverwares were still there, but the room was not the one I so associated with the old headmaster; it was Minerva's room. But of course Minerva was just a recent graduate at the time, and my headmaster was simply the Transfiguration teacher; Riddle's diary had shown me that much. Now I came to think of it, it rather saved me a lot of trouble: for how else could I have known that Albus might lodge in Minerva's room and therefore reach him first to sort out this…_incident_?

Settling into an armchair, I prepared myself and let go of all of my carefully built mental walls, the thick shells that surrounded me for so long that I felt naked and vulnerable now sitting in front of him without them. But it was necessary, so that he would know that all I have to say would be nothing but truth – if not the whole truth. He merely continued to stare; if he noticed my gesture, he did not show it.

So my tale went on; it did not take me long, for there wasn't much I could tell. He was told that I was from the future, and that I was on the Light side. I even went so far as to hint of the Order of the Phoenix, but for all other matters I remained silent, and he understood my reasoning: it would be virtually impossible for him to be unaffected by what I told him and therefore create a time paradox by altering the events. One simply does not play with time, not even a wizard.

I could see he heard truth in my voice, but he was still troubled, eyes lingering on my torn robes again. Then I understood. So I went on to explain that I was really a fully trained wizard of twenty-three during a battle when it all happened. He nodded at that, a mysterious smile gracing his lips. I was grateful he asked nothing of the nature of my enemy, for that enemy, that monster, roamed the school grounds still. I shuddered at that, whether from rage or fear I could not tell.

Silently I reflected upon the mockery of fate, that_ I_ should be sent back to watch the monster's accursed birth from the brilliant boy that was Tom Riddle. What year was he in now? Had he opened the Chamber and made my dear friend Hagrid a scapegoat yet? When I first awoke in the Forbidden Forest, where theambush was held, I was ever so amazed to find it whole and undisturbed. I did not understood what had happened then, although I suspected that I already held a shadowy inkling of what had come to pass – Trelawney would be proud. Then I wondered into the Castle, and found it ever so familiar and yet different. The magical calendar outside the teacher's meeting room was the final blow that shattered my pathetic denial into little pieces. I was frantic then, all my auror training forgotten, but then what training could have prepared me for _this_? That I would be thrown back in time sixty long years? What if I couldn't find a way to return? What will the world do to stop Voldemort? Through my fragmented and panicked thoughts I suddenly realized my one last straw: Albus! Yes, he must know what to do - how to handle this! So I recklessly flew to the gargoyle that guarded the headmaster's office, only then remembering Albus was not yet the headmaster. But I knew the location of teacher's offices quite well now, and it did not take me long to find Minerva–Albus' room. However, it was no relief, with that knowledge came the realization of who else dwelled in the castle. Tom Riddle, Riddle; the implication of the time had not caught up with me until then –

A polite cough awoke me from my thoughts, and I looked up to see Albus staring at me. Wordlessly he conjured a mirror, and this time I did gasp: what I saw was not the war-hardened features of a young man but the softer, childish face of my teenage years. Distraught, I noted with small consolation that at least my scar was still well-covered. Otherwise keeping my story secret or not would be pointless, for as far as I knew, there was only one such scar.

He waved my protest away even as I started to stutter, "Time travels are indeed unpredictable things," he had murmured, too amusedly to my taste really. But then, this _was_ Albus we were talking about, who knew what he had up his sleeves. And it was not his fault that he could not feel the gravity, the desperation of it all; my tongue was tied with my obligation to not to tamper with time.

Ah, now he was giving me one of _those_ looks, the ones that usually meant that I better run or be trapped in another one of his "schemes." And true enough he soon suggested in a jovial tone that I could stay in Hogwarts as a student, for surely it would be the safest place for me to stay, and surely that way I could be notified as soon as possible if anything concerning my mysterious travel in time was found. I did not know how I looked then, but I knew my blood ran cold. Twenty-three, and in school again? Not to mention, not to mention… Yet even as my heart protested, in my head I knew Albus was right. Besides, resistance is useless once Albus made up his mind; that was something we all learned.

So I became one of his distant cousins' grandson or something to that effect, and I was supposedly home-schooled until my grandfather's health made it no longer possible. Dippet bought the story completely, looking at me with sympathetic eyes; he really was gullible, that man. But then, it may also be because I had one of the most respected wizards to back me up.

Time swirled by rather quickly after that, and suddenly I found myself standing in front ofthe Great Hall with all eyes upon me: a thousand years' of history, and I became the first "transfer" student Hogwarts ever had. I was strangely calm as the Sorting Hat was placed atop my head, and I said nothing as I heard the familiar grumpy voice rambling on to itself. Would it realize, years into the future, that it had sorted the same mind twice? And then the decision was out, loud enough for all to hear, I was to be a Gryffindor again.

I could hear the applause; feel the smiling eyes of the teachers on me as I walked towards the table. I supposed I should have been happy with the sorting, to be in my dear old house again. But I felt only weariness and relief as I knew I cannot but shudder at their reaction if the hat had favored the other choice. The contraction between the applause I received and the silence that greeted the last first year who was sorted into Slytherin was too greatto ignore.

Fighting a war that required all the unity we could muster, I was at a position that I could not afford to let my childish prejudice cloud my judgment. But often times even the most fair, most learned could not overcome their stereotype for the different houses. I looked at the crowd, wondering if I was as bad when I had been a foolish brat. Then I risked a glance at the Slytherin table as I sat down; just as I expected, they held themselves proudly aloof, faint distain on their faces against the rest of the school. But one of them was clapping politely, conveying just the right combination of dignity and good-natured encouragement. No wonder the teachers adored him and even the rest of the school looked up to him, for there was to mistake as who it might be: black hair, emerald eyes, Head Boy badge…Tom Riddle. I suddenly wondered if Albus had noticed our alikeness when I appeared on his doorstep? Oh, but Riddle was looking my way now, must look away…and look away I did so that I would not stare into an angle's face that hid such a demon within. My blood boiled as I felt his gaze on me. Albus had made me swear a Wizard's Oath that I would do nothing to alter the future. I had thought him paranoid then, for what would I do? Strangle the monster while he was still destructible? I would never do such a thing to an innocent, for as ridiculous as it sounded, Riddle was innocent of the crimes of Voldemort. But I wasn't so sure now, I didn't know what I would do if there was no Oath to bind me. So much destruction, so much grief, if only I could stop him now –

Abruptly I turned away from that train of thought which was fast advancing upon dangerous territories. With forced calm I turned to my housemates. We made some small talk, and I was careful that we did not go beyond that. One of the reasons that I were to stay as a student was so that I would be as little entangled with events of this time as possible; therefore it was quite obvious that it wouldn't do for me to make any sort of long lasting friendship with anyone here. It wasn't really that hard, pretending to be a loner. Friendship was something I gave up a long time ago, another price I paid for the war. Not that they didn't love me just as much, but after my training I found an enormous gulf between us, dividing us. Was it my cynicism? Or my understanding of the cruelty of war? I became a leader, just like I was meant to be – but to lead I needed respect, not friendship.

I ate little after that, lost in thought. And none ventured to speak to me one look at my gloomy face. Then the feast was over. I remembered only at the last second to pretend that I didn't know the way and let some other seventh years lead me – at least Albus allowed me to be in the highest year.

As I reached the ever familiar dormitory, I found the extra bed already prepared for me, and my clothing and books neatly beside it. Ah, must thank Albus for that. Promptly I changed into pajamas and set about looking as menacing as possible to fend off the others' attempt for conversation. I may be in my eighteen year olds' body, but my power and my knowledge did not leave me. Out of the corner of my eyes I saw one of the boys I talked to during the feast advancing towards me. Obvious he did not get my message. With a sign I buried myself into the covers, hoping that would be enough even for him. Gryffindors, that was the problem with them.

* * *

Charms, my first class with the Slytherins. 

I was among the first to enter the classroom, as the word was out that I did not mingle with the other students, and they had all learned to leave me alone. I chose a seat at the back, so that I could see all that was going on in the class. What I saw was not surprising, the usual childish rivalry not unlike those I had in my own time. Watching the students gave each other dark eyes over something as trivial as who entered the room first made me feel ever so isolated from the pettiness of it all.

And then of course _he_ had to come, looking as friendly and dignified as he did during the feast, nodding slightly to both houses. I yet again pondered his acting skill and will-power, for I knew only too well how much he despised Gryffindors and non-purebloods… or did I?

Our eyes met. My heart pounded as adrenaline surged through my body. In a second I had my wand ready. Yet he simply gave me one of those insufferable nods and moved towards the "Slytherin" half of the room. I couldn't help but stare after him; not used to the fact that an encounter with Vol-Riddle did not result in a life-threatening duel. He did not even look back.

Finally I snapped my eyes away, angry with myself. What did I expect? I am no longer the great Harry Potter, only another – if somewhat eccentric – Gryffindor. If I wanted to keep things as they should be as much as possible, I better get used to the idea fast. At times like this, I always wondered why on Earth Albus put me into the school. Couldn't he hide me in some rooms so that I wouldn't need to deal with people at all? Yet even as I complained, in my heart I knew I'd die from the inaction first.

The class dragged on, we were to perform a minor invisibility charm that worked only on immobile objects for a short period of time – nothing I couldn't handle, although I must admit the curriculum did seem harder then if the seventh years were working on this kind of level already in the beginning of the year. Lazily I settled back into my chair to watch my classmates struggle; the last thing I wanted was to become the first to succeed and draw unnecessary attentions to myself.

I supposed I must have dozed off, very careless of me – because I awoke to Professor Lewellen's voice calling my fake name. She was a small woman in her fifties, with razor-sharp features and a thin mouth. Currently her eyes were narrowed in such a way that she reminded me strongly of Professor McGonagall, and wryly I wondered if that was where Minerva got her teaching antics from.

She must have said something to me, though; for the whole class were now watching us expectantly. I gave her one of my most innocent smiles, which I suspected was much enhanced with my boyish features and proceeded to apologize. She was easily pacified and even went so far as to tell me not to worry about the lesson since I was so obviously distressed to be leaving behind everything I'd ever known; and oh such a poor thing, I must be terribly worried about my grandfather. I smiled sheepishly in return, and she whirled away to criticism some other student's work.

I was relieved to be put off the spotlight; my classmates now had returned their attention back to the work at hand – all except one, that is. Riddle was watching me with something of an interest for the first time and raised one delicate eyebrow. Not caring whether he saw through my mask or not and _really_ not impressed by his attention at all, I glared right back and raised one of my own.

* * *

Just like Charms, all the classes posed no challenge for me. Although I must admit that they did have much more in-depth classes; at my time Hogwarts only raised the curriculum my last year in the face of Voldemort's threat. It would seem that this Ministry took Grindelwald much more seriously. And maybe that was why they were able to fight down this Dark Lord with a much cheaper price. If only I could... I closed my eyes: _stop, Harry, stop. _There was nothing I could do in the past, let's worry about getting back and fighting fair and squarely in the right time. 

Of course, that didn't mean I couldn't watch Riddle closely; after all, didn't they say "know thy enemy?" Although the sight of him was somewhat repulsing, I supposed I should stomach it as I did so many other things for the sake of being the hero of the wizarding world. Who knew what I'd learn from it? Not that I needed to suffer his presence much, really; three times a week, that was all. Slytherins and Gryffindors never mixed easily and did not usually seek out each other besides mandatory class arrangements.

Thus life went on with relative calm; in fact, I've never been so relaxed my whole life in my time. Yet my patience was wearing thin, and I visited Albus time and again for any information about my return. He had asked me to describe the circumstance under which I traveled here in as much detail as I could for three times, each time looking more pensive. He suspected that this accident resulted in the multiple of curses crushing together. But so far, he could offer no solution.

Classes continued to be a bore, and I continued to pretend to be interested in the lectures and not show my real skill – except once I forgot myself and made my transfigured clock just a little too precise. Of course, it was all Riddle's fault, as he was watching me challengingly then and I was busy hating him. All in all, though, nothing interested me until the ninth Defense against the Dark Arts lesson.

It was then I learned that they had a monthly practical class in which students dueled each other, not unlike the dueling club or the Dumbledore's Army my friends and I establish in what now seemed eons ago.

Riddle, ironically enough, excelled in that class, so it was no surprise when he was chosen, along with the Gryffindor who wouldn't leave me alone the first night, Richard Schaefer, for class demonstration. Apparently others knew of Riddle's skill as well, for I could see Schaefer gripping his wand nervously as he walked forward. All the while Riddle had stood with a polite smile, seemingly oblivious to the oncoming duel. Only through my trained eyes I saw that every muscle of his body was tensed and ready for attack.

It was an excellent duel, as both duelers had graceful, economical style; I could tell _they _at least had a competent Defense teacher. But the spells were quite childish and harmless, and it finished far too quickly as Riddle sent Schaefer off his feet with a simple "_Expelliarmus._"

The Slytherins erupted into cheers, and only Riddle seemed unconcerned. Coolly he accepted the teacher's praise and stared straight into my eyes, his brow again raised – this time in silent challenge.

But I was not to take his bait; I didn't know what I'd do once I let it lose. So I turned determinedly away and found myself a tolerable Gryffindor for partner. It was an exalting experience, despite the fact that I was restricted to the most basic spells.

When the class ended, I was in a better mood than I had been for quite a while. And the good mood lasted all the way through supper. Yet I should have known that nothing would stay calm for one Harry Potter.

I stared coldly at his eager face; boiling under my cool exterior. Was he suicidal, too, besides his homicidal tendencies? Did he not know how much restraint I had to employ to stop myself from cursing him senseless even without this temptation of dueling? What possessed him to challenge me? I looked around, it was one of those more secluded hallways, and most people were still in the Great Hall anyway. Besides, knowing Riddle,he probably had cast some kind of charm to keep them away. He chose his time and place well.

"Not interested," I spat and turned away.

"But we both know that only you could be my worthy opponent." His voice was soft and calm, the very paradigm of reason, the kind he probably employed countless times to bend people to his will. Not this time, though.

I continued to walk away, clenching at my fists all the while. _Worthy…_ it would seem that I could never escape his attention no matter what time frame I was in, it was not lost on me that it was my supposed "worthiness" that led his attack on my parents many years into the future.

Before I could leave the damned corridor, the damned presence inside it, a curse brushed the tip of my hair. It was not meant to hurt, only to force my attention back to him. Still, out of years of reflex I reached my wand in an instant and sprung around.

And there he was, all pretense of the friendly Head Boy gone. His green eyes shone strangely with excitement, and his very presence surrounded by a dark aura. For a moment the past and present connected. I saw not the boy Tom Riddle but the murderer Lord Voldemort.

I think I was upon him so fast that he didn't even have time to react, for suddenly I found myself crushing into his face, pinning him down, wand at his throat point. Yes, kill him now, nothing could stop me! He was just the monster; the prophecy didn't say I couldn't do it in the past.

I searched for his eyes even with the curse ready on my tongue. I wanted to see him tremble with fear as did so many of his victims; and, just like them, he would _not_ get mercy. Our gazes met.

And there was no fear in his eyes, or he didn't have time to feel it. Yet was it a flicker of…admiration that I saw? What a twisted, twisted mind! I recoiled. I was not like him…I did not abuse my power to harm the innocents! He had no right to admire me as if I were some fellow dark wizard!

I stared at his face, bloodied from my blow and so innocent looking. How could it hide so dark a soul within? In an instant Tom Riddle was back, and I lost my will. I drew away from him and staggered back, much disgusted with myself for the murder that I almost brought upon my own hands. Yet we both knew what I could have done, what I meant to do.

"Such power should not lay wasted," he murmured dreamily, as if seeing some great visions – and I had quite a nice idea of what that would be. I simply could not believe that he was asking me to _join_ him after I had almost killed him!

"So you will ask me to be one your cronies? To run around in silly black robes torturing Muggles and bringing about destruction to the whole wizarding world, _Lord Voldemort_?"

I saw his eyes widen: ops, I didn't think Sam Loendorf was supposed to know that. But I was past caring then, I was a Gryffindor twice over, after all.

"But it will not come down to that…" again, this soft, luring voice, "_Surely _you see that we wizards must take our rightful place in the world? We cannot be pushed around, forced into hiding by the ever expanding Muggles. I seek not to destroy them, only to put them in their place; we share the world, after all. I think only for the prosperity of the wizarding world."

"The prosperity of the wizarding world? Is that what you call it? Wanton killings, destruction and fear everywhere?"

He actually furrowed his brows as if in confusion, "As I said, it will not come down to that…the wizards would see that my plan is the right way, the _only_ way. Rallying together we will be great…" His voice pulled me in, as did the conviction in his eyes. Half sitting in the hallway, his face soft in the dim light, he seemed the very quintessence of all that was pure and grand, almost radiating.

For a moment I took a step towards him, overcame, and I truly believed what he said could be realized…surely such a beautiful vision must be true…surely –

He smiled and extended his hand, "…there is no right and wrong, only power…"

And that was his mistake. Hearing this phrase I was suddenly jerked back to the underground Chamber in which he first spoke it to me, in which he so carelessly professed my parents' murders. The moment was broken.

"Liar!" I called out just as I did then, "To hell with you and your stupid lies! I will _never_ join you." Furious with myself for believing in Tom Riddle, _Tom Riddle,_ out of all people – even if just for a second; I turned and strode away without sparing him another glance. He could have very well hexed me into oblivion and I wouldn't have cared. But he didn't.

* * *

After that incident I avoided Riddle like the plague. I did not want to see him and be reminded of the deed, to be reminded of the fact that I almost stooped as low as him and his deranged Death Eaters. I had to go home; this time was slowing driving me insane, I was sure of it. But each time I asked, Albus would give me that insufferable smile and tell me that he was working on it. 

The meals were more bearable, for we melted into the sea of students then and I would not feel his direct presence. But the classes… there was no escape from the classes – for he had taken up what I had done earlier and set about watching me now. Of course, he was very skilled and subtle, and I wouldn't have been any wiser if not for my training. I never acknowledged his gaze, and in fact I acted as if he did not even exist, but I was not unaffected as I pretended to be. He should hate me now, shouldn't him? I had beaten him and bruised more than his little ego, yet I could sense no hatred in his gaze…God, he _must_ stop watching me.

Just as I thought I could take it no longer, he stopped. One day, there were simply no more glances, and he started returning my treatment and acting as if I were not there. I felt much relieved, if not a little empty – which I blamed on my constant experience with excitement or danger, so that I would always feel empty when all was well again. Slowly, though, I could bear his sight again. And every time I wondered what transformed this bright young man into the monster Voldemort; if only I could… Yet no changing the past meant no changing the past. Trying to help the Dark Lord's former self was as grievous a violation as trying to kill him. Besides, if the diary Riddle was anything to come by, the young man I saw now was already capable of cold-blooded murder, I must not be fooled by his charming mask.

The pretending-each-other-air game went pretty well I must say, and for months I was spared of any turmoil. I went about playing the lone Gryffindor, and he continued to be the charismatic Head Boy. It was almost the end of the term now, and he would soon be gone, out of everyone's grip. Hopefully I wouldn't be stuck here much longer, either – Albus had promised me that he would be able to find a solution soon. Before that we just neededto ignore each other a little longer…

Yes, yes, I knew I should have never let my guard down, and I knew I shouldn't profess to know the mind of a lunatic. But I did check my food for any magical tampering like Mad-eye had drilled me, how was I to know that one famous for his loathing for the Muggles would resort to their kind of drugs?

It was quite ingenious really, I thought foggily as he guided me through the maze that was the castle, mind and body too paralyzed to resist. He must have found out during his observation that I always left the supper early, yet for the life of me (literally) I could not figure out how he had managed to drug my food and my food only. For any students or teachers we might encounter, he could simply claim to be assisting me to the hospital wing…_ingenious_.

Dimly I wondered what he would do with me…I didn't think he would risk performing any magic on me in the Castle, not with my supposed connection with Albus. Pushing me off the Astronomy Tower then? That would be a little painful and suspicious, too. Plus that was so cliché, I was sure Riddle would have more style then that. Hmm…with a spark of hope I thought perhaps he would leave me in the Chamber to rot…wait, no, diary said Albus watched him too closely now for him to do that…Albus…would Albus come to my aid? Knowing Riddle, that was a fat chance, but wasn't Albus the only wizard he ever feared? Dimly I thought on, mind too paralyzed to feel true panic and too fogged to have reason.

The cool air greeting my face caused my drowsiness to lessen a bit, and I realized that we were no longer in the castle. Slowly I became aware that the earth under me was getting softer and damper, and it was not because of my weakening legs. Riddle's strong arm was still around me, supporting me. Wryly I thought that we would have looked like a pair of close friends, but then I supposed that was what he meant for us to look like from others' point of view.

And suddenly it dawned on me: I was to be drowned. I would have laughed if my mouth was still under my control, and even then I managed a chuckle. Of course I shouldn't have expected anything less. Was it two months ago or three? That I mentioned to the Care for the Magical Creature Professor I could not swim? What patience and cunning he must have to collect even such a small detail for his plan months to come. For when my body was found, doubtlessly all attended that class would recall my one careless comment. Well, still he needed to make it clear why I went to the lake in the first place and why did I not use magic to save myself. But that wouldn't be difficult at all, I was a loner anyway, so who knew where I spent my time? And those panicking didn't usually find their cool long enough to cast magic to save themselves. A wand could also be easily lost in a fall into the lake. I would be just another tragic accident during his years in Hogwarts. No one would suspect a thing except Albus. Yet I doubt even Albus would be able to trace it back to him – as I said before, _ingenious_. So he had been watching me all along, and with a purpose…not like my pointless staring earlier.

I could sense that we were very close to the lake now as he placed me gently on the ground, and I closed my eyes, waiting for him to act. For a time nothing moved.

What was he waiting for? My showing fear? Then he was about to succeed, for this endless waiting was frying on my nerves. With some difficulty I opened my eyes, and what I saw was nothing I had expected at all. He was simply staring at me; and, for a split second, his eyes unguarded. Yet he started as he saw my eyes open, as if he did not expect me to be still conscious. And he raised one hand over his eyes as if pained.

"Sam, Sam, Sam…" he whispered my alias. And from the one word I found that I understood him and all that was left unspoken.

I understood him because I knew that in my own eyes reflected the thousand emotions that were flashing through his, and that through the long days of silent watching hate had slowly turned into something else. He could not afford to let me live as he sensed my threat to him through some natural instinct – just as I knew he was my deadliest enemy. And given another time, we would have fought each other with no reservation. Two lone souls, destined nemesis… I was forced to see the similarities that lay between us as I stared back at his face in the pale moon light. Did he notice them, too? And, did he, like so many other loners, struggle to clung onto someone he knew would understand? Yet he could not let me live…

His face was collected save a trace of fear in his eyes. Of course, I understood the fear now, as well. I tried to tell him that it was nothing to be afraid of, and that it would not be a weakness; yet with so much to say I found myself saying nothing.

Suddenly he bent down, as if in a moment of weakness, and placed a trace of feather-light kisses on my face with every gentleness. "Follow me."

An imploration, a command.

"No," with all my willpower I croaked.

From the bitter smile on his lips I knew he had expected this answer all along, yet he drew back, his cold shell snapped back in place. I had lost him now. Even as he knew the answer, my rejection still wounded him. Would he do it now?

To my surprise he sat down besides me. "Your strength is returning," he stated matter-of-factly and stared at me in cool calculation. And indeed I realized that I had managed to speak,and my head felt clearer. I knew my hour was near then: he couldn't afford to wait any longer in fear that I would escape my fate.

Still he did not move, and for a moment I almost saw the lost boy earlier who had kissed me to have me follow him, but in a swirl of the eye his mask was firmly back, his face unreadable, leaving me to ponder if I had imagined everything after all.

Silence stretched between us, not at all that uncomfortable really. Finally he stood up with much resolute, and I knew he had made up his mind then. He did not meet my eyes.

Without a word he turned away, a long figure disappearing into the darkness even as I whispered his name, too soft for either of us to hear.

Before I could reflect upon the moment, though, a strange white light engulfed me. "About bloody time…" I thought as I lost consciousness again; only then wondering what would he make of my disappearance.

* * *

I woke up to the headmaster's smiling face – this time properly wrinkled with a snow white beard: of course, trust Albus to have the greatest timing. I groaned and buried my head in the thin pillow of the hospital wing; I was much too unsettled to deal with him now. Briefly I wondered if he had anything to do with this after all,then decided not to pursue that train of thought. But to what purpose? The only thing I gained was the knowledge that for once Tom Riddle had shown mercy…yet was it mercy that made him stop? 

With a sign I sat up shakily, already giving those around me my trademark Gryffindor smile. At least I was truly glad that they managed to fend off the attack of the Death Eaters without me. And the damage didn't seem too bad. When my eyes met Albus', they held understanding, plans of regrouping already flashing through my mind. For no matter what happened between Sam Loendorf and Tom Riddle, Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort would still have to finish the war that begun so long ago and fulfill the prophecy once and for all.

**_Finis _**

* * *

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